


the best i can do (and it's still not enough)

by emavee



Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Delirium, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are Siblings, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Off-screen torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emavee/pseuds/emavee
Summary: He has to do whatever he can to get Dick through another night, but he really wishes Dick were aware enough to know that Jason won’t hurt him, that he’s safe now.Whumptober day 6: no more,"stop, please"
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Whumptober 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948276
Comments: 16
Kudos: 264





	the best i can do (and it's still not enough)

“Stop,” Dick mumbles, twitching just slightly. Jason thinks he might be writhing if he had the strength for it, but at this point Dick is pretty out of it. He’s barely conscious as it is, and definitely not aware of what’s going on. That’s the thing that scares Jason the most.

“Can’t, Dickiebird,” he says back, even though there’s no way Dick is processing anything he’s saying to him. “Gotta get you all bandaged up if you want to live long enough for someone to haul your sorry ass out of here.”

They left him with a half-ass med kit, barely enough to get Dick through the night. Maybe if the idiot weren’t so self-sacrificing, he wouldn’t be in such bad shape. It’s like he doesn’t think Jason can take a hit.

Jason works methodically, cleaning and bandaging up the worst of his wounds as best he can. Dick groans and whimpers throughout the whole process, and Jason grits his teeth, wishing he could just tune him out for a while.

“Please stop,” Dick half-sobs when Jason reaches the burns on his feet. Those are the ones that worry Jason the most. If not treated properly and treated fast, there’s sure to be some serious lasting damage. 

(The burns are also the moment Dick lost his composure and started screaming, something high-pitched and sickening, noises Jason had never imagined could even come out of his older brother. That was the same moment that Jason decided someone was going to die for this. Screw Bruce and his stupid rules. Dick’s screams are still bouncing around in his skull, shredding every last bit of patience he has left.)

His other main concern is the raging fever Dick seems to have contracted. His skin burns beneath Jason’s careful hands, nearly too hot to touch for long. Jason is sure something is infected, maybe multiple somethings, but it’s not like they gave him any antibiotics to work with. Dick’s fever keeps getting hotter and hotter, his confusion and delirium getting worse and worse and Jason is furiously helpless to actually do anything about it. 

They don’t care, it’s more fun for them this way, when Dick is too confused to know what’s happening around him,  _ to _ him. 

They really like when Dick begs. 

God he wants to punch something. Or shoot something, but also the idea of really getting his hands on these guys is sounding really good right about now. Of fucking course he has to force his hands to be gentle for the time being. His fingers shake slightly with the effort it takes to hold everything in.

He hates this. Hates that right now Dick can’t distinguish friend from foe, his brother from the fuckers that have been torturing him for days. 

A piece of his heart that Jason didn’t even know existed anymore cracks every time Dick begs him to stop. 

He can’t. He has to do whatever he can to get Dick through another night, but he really wishes Dick were aware enough to know that Jason won’t hurt him, that he’s safe now. 

(Except he’s not really safe. They’re still here, trapped in some dirty cell and someone could come for Dick at any moment. All Jason can do is try and get him through the night, help him live to see another day that’s probably going to suck just as much as the last one. Part of Jason has to wonder if it’s even worth it. The other half knows that there’s no way in hell he’s letting Dick die on his watch. He refuses to let Dick slip away in this fucking cell, no matter what. If he’s alive, then there’s still a chance to heal, and that’s all that matters. It has to be.)

Jason does his best, going as quickly and gently as he can without compromising the quality of his work (which in reality is pretty shoddy, but it’s not his fault they gave him virtually nothing to work with and a pretty severely traumatized patient) but he’s never been the best caregiver in the world. He knows how to be soft when he needs to be—he had plenty of practice with his mom and then later with other various victims—but he’s never been good at reassuring and raising spirits like Dick is. He doesn’t know how to make Dick feel  _ safe _ right now. He can’t make him magically comprehend his surroundings. Dick has been terrified and confused for days now, and Jason is clueless as to how to fix it. 

“No more.  _ Please. _ Please stop.” He’s rising in pitch and volume, getting more and more desperate. “Jay—Jason!” He looks around frantically, wide eyes glazed and unseeing as he apparently searches for his brother.

“Right here, Dickie,” he mumbles, half distracted by the act of securing the last bandage. 

Then Dick lets out a long, pitiful, shaking whine. He’s beginning to hyperventilate, sucking in desperate and panicked but far too shallow breaths as he cries. 

Frankly, it’s a bit terrifying. Jason lurches into action, needing to put a stop to Dick’s panicking as soon as physically possible. 

“Hey!” Jason shouts, rough voice in sharp contrast to the way he grabs Dick’s face between his hands, gently cradling his cheeks. Dick whimpers, tears slipping out from behind squeezed-shut eyes. They slip between Jason’s fingers to mingle with the now mostly-dried blood. “Dick, you gotta hear me, man. I need you to listen. It’s done, okay? It’s over. Just let me clean you up and then  _ I swear _ no one is going to lay a hand on you again, you got it? I won’t let them touch you. It’s over. I’m gonna… I’m gonna fix this, okay? I promise.”

“Jay…” Dick sniffles. 

He’s still not looking at him, still tense and scared. He definitely doesn’t realize that Jason’s right there, he’s just calling out for him. Over and over and over. As if Jason can save him. As if Jason isn’t already doing every single thing in his power just to try and keep him alive and  _ it’s not working. _ Nothing is working. All he has are empty promises and a feeling of helplessness that makes his blood boil. 

“Please…”

Jason sighs. “I’m sorry, Dickiebird.” He leans forward, pressing his forehead against Dick’s boiling and sweat-soaked one, hoping that the gentle contact will bring his brother some momentary comfort (and knowing that there’s no way in hell Dick will be able to remember Jason getting this soft with him). “But I swear I’m gonna fix this.”

Every last one of those motherfuckers is going to pay.


End file.
